Saying Goodbye
by SherryGabs
Summary: Gibbs returns to Stillwater for his dad's funeral. This story has been in the works for a few years. Warnings: Very sad. Get the tissues handy!
1. Chapter 1

**Saying Goodbye**

By SherryGabs

Rated: PG

Summary: Gibbs returns to Stillwater for his dad's funeral. This story has been in the works for a few years.

Warnings: Very sad. Get the tissues handy!

Hi all. I started this story about 3 years ago. It would have been considered AU at the time; but sadly, no longer. This is my take on the passing of our dear Jackson Gibbs.

When I started this, Ziva was still around. I rewrote parts to fit Ellie more. When L.J. Moore was introduced, I squeezed him in. Love Billy Dee! And then there's the episode of Jackson's funeral. I did not want to rewrite it to match the episode exactly. So therefore, there is no case the team is working on during this time. I put in bits and pieces of that episode in and I hoped it works out well for you.

**Chapter 1**

Gibbs knew the day would come when he'd get that phone call and he thought he'd be ready. But when that call came, it was still like being kicked in the chest by a mule.

"I'm sorry, Leroy. Looks like heart failure, according to Doc Harper. Jackson died in his sleep."

The call from Ed Gantry, Stillwater's sheriff, came late morning. Gibbs was sitting at his desk, trying to catch up on overdue reports when the call came. Ed knew something had to be wrong when the "Closed" sign was still up in the store window. If ever Jackson decided to take some rare time off, he always posted a sign letting customers know when he'd back. Common courtesy was important to the store owner.

Ed had found Jackson in bed, his body very still and already cold. He must have died several hours earlier.

Gibbs closed his eyes and turned around so the others could not see the complete surprise on his face. He blinked back warm tears and took deep breaths, awash with sudden emotion. _Dad's gone?_

Through the lump in his dry throat Gibbs thanked Ed and told him he'd be there later that afternoon.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to stop the oncoming tidal wave of reaction, Gibbs calmly stood and walked with a quick stiff stride to the men's room. Thankful it was empty, he grasped the edge of the counter, leaned over and let the wave hit home.

_Dad's gone! _Gibbs' breath shuddered and he let the tears fall. Grief and pain like he hadn't felt in many years bound his body in a tight vise. _Damn! How can he be gone?_ He tried to remember their last conversation. It had only been a few days before. They had made plans to go fishing over the upcoming weekend. Gibbs was looking forward to it, since he hadn't seen his dad in a while.

_Instead, I'll be burying him!_ His face crumpled in sorrow knowing he'd never see his father's lively face again, never see those bright blue eyes smiling in mischief, or hear his voice again.

Gibbs didn't know how long he stood there, silently letting the tears fall, thinking of things he'd never be able to say to his dad. He didn't hear the door open silently, and close, seconds later.

It wasn't until he heard the knock on the door that Gibbs took notice of his surroundings again. Turning the cold water on, he quickly splashed his face. Grabbing a paper towel to dry off, he tried to school his features; but there was no mistaking he'd been crying.

"Jethro?" Ducky hesitantly entered the restroom, not wanting to startle Gibbs, who was obviously experiencing something tragic.

"You've been in here quite a while. There are three worried agents outside who are very concerned, as well as myself."

Gibbs sighed and cleared his throat. His voice shook slightly from emotion. "Guess I lost track of time."

"What on earth happened?" Ducky's concern was obvious. It was quite disconcerting to him to see his friend in this much distress.

Gibbs almost lost control again and it reflected in his tight response. "My dad, umm, died last night."

"Oh, Jethro, I'm so sorry!" Ducky felt shock at the response. He recalled the time spent with Jackson when he'd visited over Christmas two years before. He'd thought the man a delightful person.

"What can I do?"

Gibbs shrugged, not knowing quite what to do himself. "Not much you can do, Duck. I need to go to Pennsylvania."

"Of course you do." Ducky put a hand on Gibbs' shoulder. "But you're certainly _not _driving yourself in this condition. I'll take you there."

Gibbs smiled gently. "No offense, Duck, but I'd like to get there today. I'll be fine."

Ducky knew he had the reputation of being a slow, cautious driver, especially in his old car. "It's my Morgan that's slow, not me. We'll take your car. This is no time for you to be alone, Jethro. You're in shock."

Gibbs had to admit, he was pretty shaky and probably in no condition to drive that distance. "All right."

Now Ducky knew he was right in offering. His friend must be in bad shape if he was so easily willing to let someone else drive without an argument.

"Jethro, I know you and your father have only been reconciled a few years; whereas I had my mother close to me for many years before her death. I can only imagine what you may be feeling and thinking. Please remember that you have your friends here to help you get through this. Allow us to go through the grief with you."

Gibbs wasn't sure how to respond. He had grieved for many people over the years and it had always been alone. He didn't know if he could let himself share what he was used to doing in solitude.

Ducky saw the hesitation. "By extension of you-Timothy, Anthony, Abby, Ellie, _and_ I thought of Jackson as part of our little family here at NCIS. We're going to hurt, too. We're all going to hurt _for _you. We can help each other deal."

Gibbs knew that Jackson had wormed his way into the hearts of his people here. He had that way about him. Ducky was right; his team was going to miss his father. Jackson _was _more than just an acquaintance to them.

"Okay, Ducky. I see your point." He figured his team was also on the other side of the restroom door dying to know what had happened to keep their boss in here so long. "Guess I should tell them."

Ducky nodded. "We both will."

Gibbs took a look in the mirror, not particularly happy with what he saw. He hated letting anyone see him as anything but strong. But, at the moment, he didn't feel strong at all. He just felt lost.

"Let's get it over with."

The three agents that made up Team Gibbs waited anxiously outside the restroom door, wishing they knew what was happening inside. The way Gibbs had escaped to the restroom after a phone call had startled them. They had given Gibbs a few minutes by himself, before drawing straws to see who would go in after him. DiNozzo lost. But after seeing his boss in the state he was in, he knew the situation was beyond him and called in Dr. Mallard.

When the door opened and the two men came out, they could tell Gibbs had been crying and it made them very uncomfortable. Their leader wasn't one to show much emotion and it unnerved them to see him this way. Something very bad had happened to shake him so.

"Boss? You okay?" Tony asked hesitantly.

Gibbs shrugged doubtfully and quietly told them about Jackson's death.

Shock and sadness kept everyone silent for a moment. Both McGee and Tony offered shy condolences, not quite knowing how to express what they were feeling. Ellie hung her head for a moment, and then quickly engulfed her boss in a tight hug.

After a moment, Gibbs released Ellie and swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn't break down again. He knew he had to give them something. "Thanks." He took a deep breath and thought a moment. "I know you all thought a lot of Jack. If it's any comfort, he died in his sleep. Peacefully," Gibbs voice hitched at the end.

Ducky once again put his hand on Gibb's shoulder for support. "I'm driving him to Stillwater today. We'll let you know when arrangements have been made."

They nodded. "Is there anything we can do?" Tim offered.

"Just finish clearing up your case reports," Gibbs told them and looked up to the balcony above. "I need to go talk to Vance."

"I'll wait for you here, Jethro," Ducky told him, giving him a pat.

Gibbs slowly made his way to the Director's office. Vance offered him genuine sympathies and told him to take as long as he needed; he had bereavement and vacation time coming. The director stared after Gibbs as he left his office. He had rarely seen his lead agent so misplaced emotionally. As much as they got at each other's throats over their work, he really did consider Gibbs a friend. They went back a long ways and shared a lot of history. His old friend must really be hurting. He made a mental note to not have Gibbs' remaining team assigned any difficult cases and to have his secretary send flowers to the funeral. On second thought, he'd take care of that himself.

When Gibbs arrived back at the bottom of the stairs, he was practically knocked over by his lab rat, Abby, who crushed him in her spindly, but strong, arms.

"Oh, Gibbs! I'm so, so, so sorry!" She was crying, beside herself at the news that the flirty Papa Gibbs was gone.

Gibbs sighed, wishing he could smack whoever had called Abby up. He was just not in the mood for her over-enthusiastic… well, everything. But he hugged her back and kissed her forehead, knowing she gave from her heart.

"Thanks, Abs." He released her and turned to Duck. "You ready to go?"

Ducky, the guilty one at calling Abby, held up his coat and hat that Abby had brought up for him to signify he was ready.

"Call when you get there, so we know you made it safe!" Abby yelled after them as they made their way to the elevator. Gibbs waved his hand to show he had heard.

**ooooOOOoooo**

They were finally on the road after stopping at each other's homes to quickly pack suitcases. Thinking his '72 Charger might be a bit much for Ducky to handle, they had decided to take an NCIS-owned car.

The trip was silent at first. Ducky tried to ask Gibbs questions about his hometown and his childhood, but Gibbs shrugged him off, desiring to remain quiet. Ducky didn't take it personally; he knew his friend would speak in his own time. He wasn't about to remain silent, however, and regaled tales of his own childhood and home in Scotland.

Gibbs easily tuned Ducky out, as he had many times before. He did a lot of thinking and remembering as he gazed out the passenger window. He'd had a happy childhood. At least up until the day his mom had died. He was not proud of the person he'd become after that. His dad had tried to help him sort out his feelings, but he refused any help, preferring to wallow in his own pity and anger.

After high school, he couldn't wait to get away from the little town he considered stifling. The Marines was his ticket out. His dad wasn't exactly thrilled with the choice, wanting his son to get a college education; something he'd never had. But Gibbs had no desire for a higher education, having only tolerated high school. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of his namesake L.J. Moore; who he admired so much. And, if he hadn't left the day he had, Gibbs never would have gotten the chance to meet and get to know the one true love of his life.

No, he was satisfied with the career choice he'd made. He did, however, deeply regret the choice he'd made to exclude his father from his life. He wanted to cry all over again thinking of the way he'd treated his dad at his girls' funerals. If it hadn't been for the LeCombe case bringing him back to Stillwater, they'd still be estranged.

But at least they'd had the past few years to get to know one another again. Gibbs considered himself lucky to have had that. They were now to the point where they were talking freely and giving and receiving advice like it should have been all along.

Of course, he realized with a painful jab to his heart, that he'd put his dad's life in danger when the Reynosa/Hernandez/Rivera family had targeted him for revenge. Those were the most terrifying months of his life, and something he could never make up for.

"Jethro, we're almost there."

Ducky's voice cut into his thoughts. Gibbs sat up straight and looked around, seeing they were in the woodsy outskirts of Stillwater. He wondered how deep he'd been in his thoughts to have not noticed the time go by.

"You were a million miles away, Jethro. What's on your mind?"

Gibbs looked at Ducky, trying to put into few words as possible what was burdening him. "Just a whole lotta regrets."

Ducky nodded in understanding. "Yes, when it's time to say goodbye to a loved one, it seems regrets are what we think of. All the whys and what ifs. Jackson struck me as the kind of man who regretted several things also, but he was willing to let them go and move forward."

He looked over and made eye contact with his friend. "I refer to the incident when he had to shoot the young lad who attempted to rob his store. I've spoken to him since then and he was extremely grateful for the advice you gave him."

Gibbs shrugged. "Didn't really say all that much." He remembered their conversation well. He'd been confused about the intention of his dad's visit over that Christmas. The older man's behavior had been so odd he'd called Ducky in to see if his dad was possibly suffering from dementia. After learning of his father having to kill someone, Gibbs understood how much it had affected his dad. He was a gentle, peace-loving soul and the incident had shaken him to the core.

"You _are _a man of few words, Jethro. From you, even a few words can have a great impact."

Gibbs appreciated the sentiment. The closeness he'd felt with his dad at the time was something he'd always remember with appreciation.

Entering the village limits of Stillwater, Ducky slowed. "Where shall we go first?"

Dreading the thought of having to take control of things, plan a funeral; and worst of all, seeing his dad for the last time, Gibbs sighed. "He was taken to the clinic. I'll need to sign some papers and have him transferred to the funeral home."

Gibbs directed Ducky to the small medical center. It held several doctor's offices and an immediate care facility for minor injuries and illnesses. It also held the town's morgue in the basement.

It was all Gibbs could do to force himself into entering the morgue area. It was smaller than Ducky's facility at NCIS. Three drawers lined the far wall and a single metal table stood in the center of the room.

They had to wait a moment for someone to come in to greet them. They'd been instructed at the reception desk upstairs that someone would be with them shortly. Ducky used this time to call Abby to let her know they'd arrived intact.

"I'm Dr. Harper," the man introduced himself. "You must be Leroy. Jackson's spoken about you often."

He held out his hand for Gibbs to shake, which he did. He didn't know the doctor, but assumed his dad must have known him well if they'd talked about him.

"Yeah," he then nodded towards Ducky. "This is Dr. Mallard."

"Oh?" Dr. Harper shook Ducky's hand also. "What type, may I ask?"

Ducky gave an uncomfortable smile and waved his hand towards the room. "Medical examiner, actually." He cleared his throat. "But I'm only here for moral support. Not in any official capacity."

"Ahh, I see." Dr. Harper moved towards one of the drawers, the only one occupied at the moment. "I'm sorry about your father, Leroy. I've known Jack twenty years. A lot of others have known him longer. He was a good man and he's surely going to be missed."

Gibbs nodded. He stared at the drawer front and asked, "What happened, exactly?"

"All indications show that he died of heart failure during his sleep. Nothing else was obvious. Given his age and the fact he was a bit overweight, along with moderately-high cholesterol, well…" the doctor shook his head sadly. "If you wish, I could perform an autopsy."

Gibbs remembered his dad easily becoming short of breath and it had worried him. He'd always seemed so strong his entire life. God, it sucked to get old!

"No, not necessary," He couldn't stand the thought of his dad being cut open, like so many other bodies he'd seen over the years.

Dr. Harper put his hand on the drawer handle and looked at Gibbs, waiting to see if he wanted to view the body.

Gibbs nodded and slowly approached the opening drawer. The doctor pulled the sheet down to uncover Jackson's face and stepped away to give Gibbs some privacy.

Gibbs took in the wrinkled features, the peacefulness. His dad looked content in death. He raised his hand and stroked his father's cheek. "Ah, Dad."

He couldn't stop the tears that began running down his own cheeks and didn't care who saw. Gibbs leaned down and kissed his father's face, running his fingers through the white hair. "I love you."

He stood back up and turned away while the doctor pulled the sheet back up and quietly closed the drawer. He couldn't stand this! He swiped angrily at the dampness on his face, damning the suddenness of it all.

Ducky went to stand next to Gibbs, taking hold of his arm. Gibbs noticed that Ducky's eyes were sad and compassionate. "This is harder than I thought it would be, Duck."

"Of course it is," Ducky handed his friend his handkerchief. "We think of our parents as indestructible. When we lose one, even at our age, it's a blow to the stability we're used to." Gibbs knew Ducky spoke from experience, having lost his mother a few years earlier.

Gibbs wiped his eyes and shook his head. "I thought I'd be ready when the time came. I knew it had to happen someday. But I'm _not_ ready. It's too soon, after all those years spent apart."

Ducky nodded and sighed deeply. "I know, Jethro. Even when it's expected, it's still not any easier. What you're feeling is quite normal. Just remember, you're not going through this alone."

"I know, Duck. And thanks." He really did appreciate his older friend being there with him. If he'd been alone, with no voice of reason to talk him down, he'd probably be overwhelmed by the intense anger that usually built up when he faced circumstances beyond his control.

"Leroy, if you could sign the release form, I'll arrange to have Jackson moved to the funeral home." Even Dr. Harper's voice was subdued with sadness. He'd lost a friend and refused to refer to him with anything other than his proper name.

Gibbs signed the form and handed the clipboard back to the doctor. "Guess that's the next stop for us, too."

**ooooOOOoooo**

There was only one funeral home in Stillwater. The funeral director gave his condolences as they sat in his office.

"I don't know if you're aware, Mr. Gibbs, but your father had his funeral arrangements taken care of several years ago. Everything's been prepaid, right down to the newspaper obituary. He'll be laid to rest next to his late wife."

"Yeah, I knew."

It had been a conversation Gibbs didn't really want to hear, but his father wanted him to know these things. Now he was thankful his dad had thought ahead. It made things much less stressful now.

"The obituary can be in tomorrow's paper announcing the death and funeral. Would the day after tomorrow, Friday say around 2:00, be satisfactory for the funeral service?"

Gibbs knew how the gossip mill worked in Stillwater. Most of the town probably already knew of Jackson's death and would be expecting the upcoming funeral. As much as he would like a private funeral, without a crowd, that would be impossible. Jackson was a long-standing, well-respected citizen with a lot of friends. The entire town would probably show up.

"That's fine."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Saying Goodbye**

By SherryGabs

Rated: PG

Summary: Gibbs returns to Stillwater for his dad's funeral. This story has been in the works for a few years.

Warnings: Very sad. Get the tissues handy!

**Chapter 2**

It had been difficult seeing his father and getting the funeral details finalized, but Gibbs was relieved they had taken care of these unpleasant tasks first thing. Now he had over a day to think. A day to ponder what to do with what his father left behind.

Having missed lunch, Ducky suggested they get something to eat. Gibbs wasn't in the mood, but wouldn't deny Ducky his dinner. He pointed to a diner down the block they could walk to.

Gibbs was familiar with the place and went straight to a booth he'd sat in many times before. The waitress came with a coffee pot and menus in hand.

"Leroy! Nice to have you back in town, but I wish it was under happier circumstances. I'm so sorry to hear about Jack."

"Thanks, Millie." Gibbs turned the coffee mug on the table upright so she'd know he wanted some. He figured he better get used to hearing the words "I'm sorry to hear about Jack" and being called "Leroy" because he knew he'd hear it often enough in the next few days.

She poured the coffee and babbled on. "He was just in here yesterday mornin' for breakfast. Seemed sprite as always. Who would've thought—" Millie stopped herself, thinking maybe it wasn't the right place or time.

Instead, she placed the menus down with an embarrassed frown and told them she'd be right back.

"I'm sure she meant well, Jethro."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and took a sip of the hot brew. He glanced around the diner, recognizing some of the faces from when he was young or from more recent visits. His eyes raked over the many odd signs and photos that hung on the walls. Decades worth of popular customers, friends and employees, an occasional celebrity, even the winner from an ugly pet contest. His gaze stopped at two photographs hanging above their booth. One was of a younger Jackson, as Gibbs remembered him from his boyhood. The other was of a woman from the same time, whom his eyes lingered on for a moment.

Ducky was looking the menu over, tsking at the fattening dinner choices. Gibbs looked at him. "No haggis today?"

Ducky hmphed. "I'd be happy just to see something not covered in gravy."

Millie came back at that point. "Special today is liver and onions. Have you decided?"

Ducky closed his menu in defeat and took his glasses off. "I'll have the liver and onions-hold the gravy, and a cup of tea."

Millie winked at him and turned to Gibbs. "What about you, hun?"

"I'm not really hungry. Just a slice of apple pie." Then a sentimental thought came to him as he took another quick glance at the photo above him. "Could you drizzle some chocolate over it?"

If she thought it strange, it didn't show. "Sure thing. I'll have that out for you gents quicker than you can shake a lamb's tail."

Ducky shook his head at her retreating form. "Lamb's tail?"

Gibbs hid a smirk behind another sip of his coffee.

Ducky cast an amused glance at Gibbs. "I've never heard of putting chocolate syrup over apple pie. Is that a local thing?"

Gibbs allowed himself a sad smile as he thought back. "No." He pointed around the interior of the diner. "My mom used to work here. Putting chocolate on apple pie was her special thing for me."

He pointed to the photograph of the woman above them. "That's her; the year before she died."

Ducky looked long at the attractive woman. Next to her he saw the photo of Jackson. Seeing them both together, he could see a mixture of them both in Jethro. He noticed her dark red hair, and thought of all of Jethro's wives having red hair, but thought it best not to point out.

"She was a beautiful woman, Jethro. And much too young to have left you so early."

"Yeah."

"You've never talked about her. How did she die?"

"She got sick-cancer." Gibbs remembered the months of watching his mom deteriorate, eventually being bed-ridden. "She only lived maybe six months after the diagnosis." He couldn't bear to add that his mother had taken her own life before the cancer could; overdosing on pills to avoid having to go through her end in agony.

"Oh, dear."

"It was a long time ago, Duck. I got over it."

_Did you, my friend?_ Ducky didn't think so. He had to wonder if Gibbs' past obsession with redheads stemmed from his mother, not from Shannon as he'd always assumed. But now was not the time to analyze that particular can of worms. He filed that thought away for future reference.

"It had to have been difficult for both yourself and your father to adjust."

_To put it mildly! _Gibbs thought. "We had our moments."

Their food arrived. Gibbs thought it perfect timing, hoping Ducky wouldn't want to continue the current conversation. Things were bad enough now as it was, without bringing up negative history.

Knowing Gibbs for so long, Ducky could see that his old friend wouldn't have anything to follow his last comment. Placing his napkin on his lap he dug into his dinner, which he found unexpectedly tasty.

Gibbs took a bite of his pie, expecting it to be like what his mom used to give him. But, surprisingly, it was bland; nothing at all like he remembered.

Disappointed, Gibbs dropped his fork onto the plate and pushed it away, wishing they'd never come here.

"Is something wrong with your pie, Jethro?"

"No. Just not hungry."

Ducky, being the intuitive man he was, thought he knew why Jethro didn't want the dessert; but instead of just stating why, he chose the story route.

"When I was a lad, Mother used to make the most wonderful Hotch-Potch. It's a rich vegetable soup with beef, chicken, or whatever meat she had on hand. It became a birthday tradition for her to make it for me, along with oatcakes which I would put right into the soup to soak up the broth. I've tried to make it myself, but it never came out right." He gave Jethro a meaningful look. "I don't think it was the recipe I was getting wrong. It just didn't have Mother's special touch. The love she put into it."

Gibbs understood what Ducky was trying to say. Maybe it _was_ just that it hadn't actually come from his mom. It didn't come with her smile, her fingers ruffling his hair; and an 'Eat up, sweetie'.

"Nothing was ever the same after she died," Gibbs voiced softly, knowing full well he'd fallen into Ducky's trap to talk; "at least not for me. Sometimes I thought Dad didn't care about her at all. He seemed to go right on with life. It made me so damned angry."

"Are you sure of that, Jethro? Or did he try to make things easier for you by making things _seem _normal?"

Gibbs sighed deeply and ran a hand over his tired eyes. He thought back to the conversation when his dad told him their marriage had not been good. Looking back all those years with an adult outlook he could see the truth in that.

"I don't know about that, Duck. They fought a lot. Dad would flirt with the ladies, not caring that Mom noticed. It wouldn't surprise me if he'd cheated on her. Mom let it happen, but had her own ways of getting back at him. While she was sick, he took care of her; out of love or obligation, I don't know. But I _am _sure the only reason they stayed together was because of me.

"Dad blamed Mom for dying and leaving him to raise me alone. I blamed him for being a cold, unfeeling bastard. The next several years were spent arguing, defying; doing everything except supporting each other."

"But since your return to Stillwater for the LeCombe case, you've both worked out a lot of your differences, haven't you?"

"Yeah. I guess we've both matured and mellowed quite a bit over the years. Let bygones be bygones and all that." Gibbs shook his head with a slight smile. "It still bugs me when he flirts."

"Jethro, being close to your father's age, I must admit something," Ducky wiped his mouth with the napkin and laid it on the table. "We older gents like to flirt because it makes us feel good. It reminds us of the young bucks we used to be." He smiled conspiratorially. "And _you _my dear friend are just as guilty. I've seen you work the ladies often enough."

Gibbs tried his best to look innocent, which Ducky rolled his eyes to.

Gibbs allowed a laugh thinking of something. "You know what sucks, Ducky? When I was in high school and dating; Dad had more dates than I did."

"And yet he never remarried. He _chose_ to stay a single parent during those difficult years. Do you know why, Jethro?"

"I don't know. I know there were a handful of women who would have jumped at the chance. I guess he just didn't want to be tied down to just one. Not that a marriage certificate would have stopped him," Gibbs added humorously.

Ducky shook his head no. "That afternoon I spent with him painting toys, we talked quite a bit. He told me he never remarried, because none of the other women could measure up to his late wife. None were good enough to be a mother to you."

Gibbs shook his head, not quite convinced. "I'd have thought he would have been happy just to have someone else have to look after me."

"Jethro, don't sell your father short. You were a child, and had no idea what might have been going on in his head. You saw what was obvious from your point of view. But he told me he loved his Anne. He may not have been 'Husband-of-the-Year' material; as he put it. But he knew what a good mother she had been and that you adored her. Nobody could really take her place."

Gibbs let this information sink in. Aside from an occasional mention here and there, his dad and he hadn't ever really talked in depth about their feelings towards his mom death. It was a touchy subject they could only dance around. It was a bit of a shock, though, to learn all this. He was still learning from his old dad.

"And I probably never would have let anyone try to take her place," Gibbs admitted quietly.

For the second time that day, Gibbs was glad he had Ducky with him. Thankful his old friend had the insight to say exactly what he needed to hear.

**ooooOOOoooo**

Between the diner, the car, and Jackson's house, Gibbs and Ducky were stopped several times by people. Friends and neighbors of Jackson's, giving their condolences and a few telling stories of the old days; or what Jackson had done for them more recently. Gibbs tolerated it best he could, not wanting to offend anyone. He realized his dad's friends were going to miss him and he tried to remember this as the time wore on and the exhaustion in him grew.

Finally, making it to the house Gibbs had called home all those years ago, he let them in with his key. The two dropped their bags near the door and looked around the quiet space.

The living room was pretty much the same as when Gibbs had last seen it. An empty beer bottle sat on the coffee table, along with a book that had his dad's reading glasses lying on top of it. Gibbs stared at these a moment knowing exactly what his dad had been doing before going to bed the previous night. Same thing he did almost every night.

Gibbs looked over to the fireplace and saw his dad's fishing pole lying across the mantle, along with his tackle box. He slowly walked over to it and glided his fingers along the old pole. He couldn't even begin to count the number of fish that thing had caught over many years. Opening the tackle box, he could see his dad had been making new lures and flies to use.

"We were supposed to go fishing this weekend."

Ducky barely heard the soft voice. His heart constricted in pain for his friend. He watched Jethro close the box and start meandering around the room, adjusting knick-knacks and staring at framed old photos of their little family and of his grandparents. A more recent photo stood on the end table next to the sofa. He picked it up and sat down heavily on the worn piece of furniture.

It was a picture of his dad and himself. Standing proudly in front of the store they had both just repaired after it had been shot up by Paloma Reynosa and her goons. It had stayed closed for almost that entire summer while Jackson was being safely guarded at Gibbs' house. He had to hand it to the old man; he'd really stood up to the dangerous woman. Wasn't afraid to protect what was his. He'd wanted to stay in Stillwater, but Gibbs had insisted he needed round the clock protection under his roof in Alexandria.

They'd spent several days fixing the store up. Not once did Jackson bring up the fact that he knew his son had murdered Paloma's father. He was a man who hated violence, but knew his Leroy had been in a terrible state of mind at the time and thought he shouldn't be judged for his rash actions.

Gibbs felt Ducky sit on the sofa beside him to get a better look at the picture.

"That's a rather nice photograph of the two of you," Ducky said. "Is that Jackson's store?"

Gibbs nodded. "After we patched up all the bullet holes Miss Reynosa left in it." He put the picture back on the end table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "He could have died that day and it would have been my fault."

"But he didn't die," Ducky pointed out sternly. "Thanks to you, he was prepared for her."

"Damn it, Ducky! He shouldn't have been put in that position to begin with!"

"Jethro! There is no point in bringing all that up now," Ducky knew he needed to stop Gibbs from falling into a state of depression, which he was prone to do. It was time to stop dwelling on the negative. "There is no point in getting yourself worked up over something that is over and done with. I think you need to stop thinking of every bad thing that's happened and begin to delve into more of the good memories."

"Not a whole lot there!" was Gibbs first knee-jerk reaction.

Ducky sighed in annoyance. "Looking at that photograph, I see two smiling men who seem to be enjoying each other's company."

Gibbs looked at the photo sadly, thinking they _had _enjoyed their time together those few days, along with the few times they had together since their reconciliation. A few years ago, he might not even have considered going to his father's funeral _if_ he'd been informed about it; things were that bad. But now he realized how much he was going to miss his old man. What good was it doing him dwelling on the past? Not a damn thing. Wouldn't it be easier to remember the good times?

"Ok, Duck, I see your point," Gibbs gave him a wan smile. "I will _try _to be more positive."

Ducky patted Gibbs' knee. "That's all I can ask."

Gibbs leaned back, looking around the room again. It occurred to him that this was _his _now. The store would be his also.

"What the hell am I going to do with all this?"

"I take it you are the sole beneficiary?" Ducky asked.

"He showed me his will." Gibbs got up and went to the coat closet near the front door. Pulling out a fireproof safe box, he brought it back and sat it gently on the coffee table in front of them. "He had it changed a couple of years ago; had me made executor."

The box wasn't locked. He opened it and began rummaging through old documents, deeds, more old photos. He found the $50,000 life insurance policy; which he laid separate knowing it would have to be dealt with eventually.

The folded Last Will & Testament of Jackson Edward Gibbs lay upright against the side. Gibbs unfolded the document and handed it to Ducky.

"Dad left five thousand to his church and ten thousand to a Veterans' home. Everything else goes to me."

"Hmmm," Ducky skimmed through the will and handed it back. "When Mother passed she left me her house, but it was much too large for just me. It was a difficult choice after having it in our family for so long, but selling it was the best option, I believe. You could save the house and make your hometown a place to retire to."

Gibbs chuckled ironically. "Can you see me running a general store as a retirement choice?"

Ducky screwed up his face giving it a thought. "No. Not really."

Gibbs shook his head. "Nope." Stillwater stopped being his home a long time ago. He had no desire to return here to live.

He thought briefly about renting the house to someone, but decided he didn't want to be responsible for upkeep, or dealing with renters that might come and go. "Guess selling it all is probably the best thing."

"If you have no aspirations for the house or store, then yes, it probably is the best thing."

Gibbs nodded, and then yawned wearily. Looking at his watch it was barely 8:00, but it felt more like midnight. "Damn, I'm tired."

"It's been a long, stressful day for you, Jethro. And I must admit I'm a bit bushed myself."

Gibbs pointed to the stairway. "You can sleep in my old room. It's the one on the left. There's a dresser and closet for your clothes. The bathroom's across the hall from it."

Ducky went to retrieve his baggage. "And where will you sleep?"

Gibbs pointed downward to the sofa. "Right here." He slept on his own sofa at home so much; he knew he'd be fine.

Ducky knew better than to try to change his mind. There was no way Gibbs would allow the older man to sleep on the sofa, and they were both too exhausted to make up Jackson's bedroom for either of them.

Ducky stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "I think I'll get cleaned up and read for a bit before going to sleep. So, if you need me for anything, don't hesitate."

Gibbs lifted the corner of his mouth and nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Good night then, Jethro."

He watched Ducky go up the stairs and whispered, "Night, Duck."

Sighing heavily, Gibbs picked the beer bottle up from the table in front of him and took it to the kitchen wastebasket. Aside from a few dishes in the sink, everything looked fine, so he shut the light off on his way back to the living room, turning off the overhead light there. In the dark, he kicked his shoes off and then stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt, letting the clothes drop to the floor.

Sitting down, he turned the lamp on next to him and pulled his grandmother's afghan from the top of the sofa down over himself. He could hear Ducky moving around upstairs, getting ready for bed. Gibbs sighed again and picked up the book his father had been reading.

_Sunset Pass _by Zane Gray.

Gibbs chuckled. His dad loved westerns and WWII books _and_ movies. This book had been read many times from the looks of it. Being a fan of westerns himself, Gibbs opened the book to the first chapter. Laying down and getting comfortable, he squinted at the words. Instead of getting up and digging out his own glasses, he grabbed his dad's glasses and put them on. _Close enough._

He was exhausted, but his mind kept racing over things from the past and responsibilities that needed to be taken care of. Things he just didn't want to think about right now. Concentrating on the words, imagining the scenery, Gibbs let himself get lost in the story. He barely registered when there was no more movement upstairs and the house became totally silent except for his own breathing. It wasn't much longer until the words became blurry and his eyes finally couldn't stay open any longer. Eventually, the book fell off to the side and the glasses got pushed off and he finally slept a dreamless sleep.

**ooooOOOoooo**

Dawn was barely breaking when his eyes opened again. The birds were raising a ruckus in the front yard willow tree and he listened, enjoying the sound for a few minutes, until he thought of all he had to do that day.

He wasn't feeling the overwhelming grief at the moment that he had felt all the day before, but knew it was only a brief respite. He was sure it would come back repeatedly. This he knew from experience.

Gibbs picked the book up off the floor and found his dad's glasses under his shoulder, luckily still in one piece. He got up, put the afghan back in place and went to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee started. He decided to go up and shower before Ducky woke up, so he grabbed his dirty clothes and bags and headed upstairs. Since his friend was using his old room, Gibbs dropped his stuff in his dad's room. He broke out in chilled goose bumps when he looked at the bed where his father had died. The blankets were pulled back and he could see the impression left in the bed where his dad had laid.

After a few moments of staring and lamenting, Gibbs took a deep breath and pulled the blankets and sheets off the bed. He stuffed them into the hamper that held a bit of his dad's dirty laundry and knew he'd wash them all after his shower. He took his garment bag that held the suit he'd wear to the funeral and hung it on the closet door and left the rest of his stuff in his suitcase to take out as needed.

After his shower, Gibbs dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. While he was in his dad's bedroom, he figured he might as well pick out a suit for his father to be buried in. There were only two; his dad just wasn't one for wearing suits. He picked out the nicest one and laid it out on the bed to take to the funeral home later. He grabbed the hamper and started out the door, almost bumping into Ducky who had emerged from his room.

Gibbs had to smile at the rumpled doctor. His hair was sticking up at odd angles and he still had sleep in his eyes.

"Mornin', Duck."

"Oh! Jethro!" He backed away with a jolt and a chuckle. "You gave me a start." He pointed to the hamper. "What are you doing with that?"

"Just thought I'd wash his bedding and stuff." Gibbs shrugged. "Needs to get done."

Ducky nodded in understanding. "Yes, I suppose it does."

"I'll wait till after you shower. This old house, you can't run the washing machine and expect to have water anywhere else."

Ducky nodded in understanding and smiled. "I'll be quick."

"Take your time. No hurry. You want breakfast?"

The doctor gave him an amused look. "_Can_ you cook?"

Gibbs tilted his head and thought. "I can handle toast and scrambled eggs. That's about it."

"Do you feel up to it? I can make it when I come down."

Gibbs smiled sadly. "I got to keep going, Ducky. Life doesn't stop."

The older man studied Gibbs face and believed him to be okay for now. "Toast and scrambled eggs are fine. I'll be down in twenty minutes."

Gibbs nodded and headed down the stairs as Ducky went into the bathroom.

Even if the eggs were a bit overcooked, the two men finished them off and cleaned up the mess. Gibbs got the washing machine started with the bedding and grabbed a set of keys hanging by the back door.

"Why don't we go over to the store and see what we can do there," Gibbs suggested.

Ducky grabbed his coat and hat. "That sounds as good a place as any to start." He saw Gibbs opening the back door. "Isn't the car in the front?"

Gibbs smiled and pointed out the door. "The store is just across the backyard. Well, the back door to the store is." He jingled the keys.

"Ahhh," Ducky smiled and followed him out the back door.

He'd never been in Jackson's store before and Ducky looked around in wonder. "What a quaint little place. How could he have possibly competed with the larger chain stores?"

"This is the only store that sells general merchandise in a twenty mile radius," Gibbs told him. "People will drive that every week or two to do large shopping trips, but this is where they come for the quick stuff, or if they don't want to drive that far. A lot of people around here believe in supporting local business instead of the big chains. Dad was never rich, but he did okay."

Gibbs took a long look around the little store. He'd spent his childhood here. When his mom was working, he'd come here after school and do his homework at the table near the front. He'd earn extra money working there weekends and in his spare time. L.J. would tell him stories about his time in the Marines and all the battles he'd fought in. Of course, Gibbs knew now how sugar-coated those stories were. He'd really missed L.J. when the man suddenly left town after his mom had died.

With a jolt, Gibbs realized he hadn't called L.J. about his former best friend's death. He'd do that today. If L.J. wanted to come to the funeral, he'd have his agents pick him up and drive here with them. McGee knew the address of the retirement home.

That crisis solved, Gibbs once again looked around and shook his head in amazement.

"You know… even after rebuilding half the place after Paloma shot it up, it still looks pretty much the same as it did forty years ago."

"Your father was a man who was set in his ways, was he not?" Ducky asked.

"Oh yeah," Gibbs agreed.

"Well, there you go." Ducky smiled.

Gibbs smirked and scratched his head, thinking. "Okay, time to get busy. I'm thinking all the perishable foodstuff can go to a food bank or churches." Gibbs frowned. "As for everything else, I have no clue."

"Well," Ducky offered his two cents. "If you sell the store to a realtor, you can leave things for him to deal with. Sell the building and contents as is. The same with the house; just leave the furnishings you don't want to keep or donate. Of course, you probably wouldn't get as much money from selling to a realtor over a private sale."

"Ahh, I don't care much about that," Gibbs told him. "I just want it done with. I'll call a couple of realtors today."

He looked at his watch. "It's a bit too early to make any calls yet. I'll call Ms. Hannigan about who would take the food. She'd know."

Ducky took his coat and hat off and started to roll his shirt sleeves up. "In the meantime, why don't we box up the perishables so it's all together."

"Good idea," Gibbs agreed. "But let me do the heavy lifting."

It really didn't take long to do that chore. They then got busy with other parts of the store. Gibbs took down photos, the old Winchester rifle, and whatever other personal items that he didn't want to leave behind.

The bell over the door jingled, signaling someone entering. Gibbs looked up to see a face he hadn't seen in quite a while, but had planned on calling.

"Ms. Hannigan. How are you?"

Her eyes were red from crying and she held a hankie tightly in one hand. "Leroy? Is that you?" She smiled and held out her arms, hugging Gibbs tightly. He stood ramrod straight with a panicked look on his face.

"Oh, how handsome you are! Just like your father."

Gibbs managed to escape her grasp and held the elderly woman at arm's length. "I was going to call you."

"You must be devastated, Leroy. I know I am." Ms. Hannigan started crying again. "Jackson was one of my very oldest and dearest friends. Oh, I don't know what to do!"

"Umm," Gibbs looked over to Ducky with a plea for help on his face. "I know Dad considered you one of his dearest friends too. I know he very much appreciated the meals and candies you made for him." Gibbs remembered the tin of candy his dad had brought with him the Christmas he visited at Gibbs' house and how he had called it a "care package".

"Oh, it was the least I could do to make sure he ate a good meal on occasion."

Gibbs just nodded, knowing his dad was perfectly capable of cooking his own healthy meals. He, however, enjoyed the attention.

Ducky came over then. "Hello, madam, I'm Donald Mallard, a good friend of Jethro's."

She looked at Ducky and suddenly became quite flustered, putting her hand to her hair to make sure it was laying right.

"Well, hello." She held out her hand daintily. "Florence Hannigan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Ducky shook her hand gently. "The pleasure is all mine. May I call you Florence?"

"Of course!" She gleamed. "If I may call you Donald."

"Donald, or Ducky as my close friends call me, would be fine."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and had to stifle a grin. The old doc could sure pour it on when he wanted to.

Now that she seemed to be in better spirits, Gibbs interrupted the budding romance. "Ms. Hannigan, I'd like to donate some of this food to a food bank, or churches. Do you of any that need it?"

"Uhh, umm," she tore her gaze away from Ducky. "Food? Churches?" She shook her head to clear it. "Of course, I know of a few associations that would be delighted to take it off your hands. With the economy the way it is, there are so many families in need of assistance. I'll just go make a few phone calls and I'm sure it will be cleared out of here in no time." She looked at Ducky and hated to be drawn away from him. "Will you be in town very long, Donald?"

"At least until after the funeral, Florence," Ducky smiled warmly.

She looked saddened again, if just for a brief second. "Yes, the funeral. Oh, how I will miss Jackson. But we must remember he is in a much better place now. I hope we run into each other again, Donald."

"I'm sure we will." He took her hand and squeezed it.

She almost giggled. "I'll go make those calls now."

Ms. Hannigan backed to the door and waved her hankie at Ducky before bumping into the door and finally opening it to leave.

Ducky's face showed satisfaction. "I still got it, even at my age."

"I think you charmed the bloomers right off of her," Gibbs chuckled. "Thanks Duck. I owe you."

"It was obvious some assistance was needed."

"Yeah, she's a bit flaky, but her heart's in the right place."

The two men spent a couple more hours deciding what to donate and what to leave. Two groups had come to divide the food between them and take it away. Gibbs and Ducky locked up and went back to the house for lunch. Gibbs called L.J. and gave him the news. He broke down in silent tears again when he heard L.J. do the same. Yes, he wanted to come to the funeral and would expect a call from McGee on when to expect him.

Ducky gave Gibbs his privacy during this time, knowing they could talk later.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Saying Goodbye**

By SherryGabs

Rated: PG

Summary: Gibbs returns to Stillwater for his dad's funeral.

Here's the final chapter. Thanks so much for the reviews, follows and favorites. I appreciate it.

**Chapter 3**

When Gibbs had calmed down and knew his voice wouldn't give away what he was feeling, he called McGee to give him the funeral information and to make sure he knew to pick up L.J. He also instructed Tony to go to his house and drive his pickup to Stillwater to carry stuff back in.

The next two phone calls were to realtors to set up times later in the day for them to inspect the store and house and give offers if they were interested in buying them.

Now he sat on the back porch swing, eyes closed, letting the quietness and clean air soak in. He felt like he could sleep another eight hours.

But it was not to be. He still had to take the suit to the funeral home, make sure they were up to speed on their end and come back here and start going through things while waiting on the realtors.

While debating on whether or not to get up now, or wait another ten minutes, he heard the screen door open and someone sit down beside him. The smell of coffee brought his eyes open to find a steaming mug in front of his face.

"Thanks."

Ducky nodded as the mug was taken from him. "How are you holding up, Jethro?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Was doing fine, till I called L.J."

"I didn't get a chance to meet him when you'd found him about his Congressional Medal of Honor. Tell me about him."

Gibbs took a drink of his coffee and wondered where to begin. "He was my dad's best friend, they owned the store together. He was like an uncle to me and I loved him for that. I joined the Marines because of him." Gibbs stopped and stared down into his mug, wondering if he should tell Ducky the rest.

The doctor looked at him and could see the turmoil. He laid his hand on Gibbs' arm. "There's more, isn't there?"

Gibbs looked at him and nodded. After another moment, he sighed deeply. "Dad, Mom and L.J. all went to school together. When I last saw L.J. he told me that he was in love with my mom, as much as Dad was at the time. But back then, a black man with a white woman just meant a lot of trouble. It was dangerous. So, even though the three of them knew how the others felt, they never talked about it; just ignored it. Mom and Dad married and life went on."

Here Gibbs paused again and Ducky had to wait him out.

"I told you my mom had cancer and died. But it wasn't the cancer that killed her. She didn't want to waste away in front of us. She didn't want us to have to take care of her. She was in a lot of pain and was tired of fighting." Gibbs slowly took another sip. "She overdosed on pills. She told L.J. she was going to do it and he didn't do anything to stop her. He didn't tell Dad he knew she was going to do it. He understood _why _she wanted to take that way out and he kept his mouth shut.

"When Dad found out, they had a huge falling out. L.J. sold his part of the store to Dad and left town. I didn't see him again until I found his Medal of Honor at that pawn shop."

"Dear Lord, Jethro. I'm so sorry!" Ducky had no idea of what to say to comfort the younger man.

"I knew she'd killed herself back then. Dad didn't think I knew, but I did. The evidence was there. I understood _why _too, and I never blamed her for it. Might have done the same thing." Gibbs _did_ know what enough pain could drive a person to do. He'd almost succumbed to pain and anguish himself many years before on that beach; but with a single bullet instead of pills.

Ducky frowned at the words. The thought of losing his friend to his own hand disturbed him greatly. As a forensic psychologist, he knew what profound depression, grief, guilt and pain could do to a person. He'd seen it in Jethro numerous times over the years and often wondered how he coped without professional help. As a friend, he would not let Jethro wallow in it now.

"I don't think so, Jethro. I think you're more the type that would fight tooth and nail, kicking butts and smacking heads until the end." He sighed. "Your mother thought she was doing the best thing for everyone, and if you accept that as it is, that's fine. She didn't have the medical treatments or resources that are available now. If she had, things might have been different."

Gibbs looked down into his cup, gently swirling the black brew. He wished he would have had someone to talk to with Ducky's sense of wisdom back when he was fourteen. He might not have been so confused and angry. He smiled weakly thinking maybe the doctor was right about him fighting like a bull until the end, but he would want to do it in solitude. He would rather people remember him as strong and formidable. Not that anyone would let him. Time and the right friendships had been a balm to the wounded soul that had been him when his family was killed. He still felt guilt, anger and a sense of responsibility towards people who couldn't fight for themselves; but it had gotten easier to deal with. The people that cared about him—his family at NCIS—wouldn't give up on him. They wouldn't let him give up on himself either.

"It's still a shame, though, how much your lives were changed by her death. Yours, Jackson's and L.J.'s. Have you ever wondered how different your life would have been if she'd lived?" Ducky could almost hear Jethro say _'What's the point in wondering about would-have-beens? It changes nothing.' _

But Gibbs surprised him.

"She would have loved being a grandma."

It was said quietly. Ducky looked over and saw the blue eyes that were misting over again.

"She would have spoiled Kelly senseless. Dressed her up in frilly dresses, have tea parties, play with dolls… All the girly stuff she wasn't able to do with me. Being a grandmother would have made her so happy." He sighed then. "But, I still would have joined the Marines, most likely. If her living could have changed any other history, I'll never know."

After a moment, Ducky patted Gibbs' knee. "I'm sorry, Jethro. I didn't mean to add to your grief."

But Gibbs smiled and rubbed a hand over his eyes quickly. "No, you didn't do that. Thinking about Mom playing like a little girl is actually kind of nice."

Ducky chuckled at a memory. "My mother was 90 years old and having tea parties with her Corgis."

Gibbs shook his head and then laughed. "Well, your mother was a very unique lady."

"Who thought you were quite charming." He cocked his head. "Even _if _she thought your name was Matthew."

Leave it to Ducky to bring Gibbs out of another slump. He appreciated what Ducky was doing for him. More than he could ever say.

"Duck, thanks again. I don't know what I'd do with myself if you hadn't come here with me."

"My pleasure, my dear boy." Ducky thought back on his own mother's death. "I should have asked for your support when my mother died, but I felt I had to do it alone. That was a mistake. I don't want you to go through the same thing. Our circumstances are far different, but it certainly makes things easier when we have the help of a friend to help shoulder the emotions and make the decisions that have to be made."

Gibbs had to agree. "Yeah, it really does." As strong as a man Gibbs is, even he was not a mountain. He was sure he would have fallen apart if Ducky hadn't been by his side.

Gibbs looked at his watch and grimaced. "I still need to get Dad's suit to the funeral home and get back here before the realtors arrive." They stood up. Gibbs tossed the remaining coffee over the porch railing.

"Would you like me to go with you, or straighten up the house?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs shrugged. "If they don't like the house the way it is, screw 'em."

That made Ducky laugh. "That's the Agent Gibbs we all know and love."

**ooooOOOoooo**

The men were satisfied with the funeral arrangements as they had been set. There would be a one-hour viewing before the service in the cemetery chapel, then more words and prayer would be held at the grave site. Gibbs knew he would be expected to say something during the service, and knew he just had to speak from the heart. He was also informed that Jackson's church would be holding a potluck dinner after the funeral. He'd forgotten that was the way it was in small towns. There was always a potluck after a funeral. He didn't particularly want to go. After all, he only knew a few people in Stillwater; but there was no way out of it without appearing completely rude. Of course, that didn't mean he had to stay till the end.

Arriving back at the house, there was some time to kill before the realtors would arrive. Gibbs decided to look around the garage, since he hadn't looked through it yet. His dad's ancient 1950-something pickup took up a majority of the floor space. Jackson had been tinkering with it since his son's bright yellow Charger had been taken out. Gibbs thought it might be nice to have it towed back to his own garage to see if he could get it running.

Just about everything else in the garage was dusty junk left there for storage. The tools were old and he already had plenty of those. His eyes stopped at a cardboard box that sat up on a shelf. He tilted his head and wondered what could be in it. Taking it down, he carefully wiped dust off the faded writing on the box. He could almost make out the word and held his breath as he tore the tape off and opened the top. A smile of wonder spread across his face and a sigh left his lips. Just as he was about to lift the item out, he heard a man clear his throat to get his attention from the garage door.

A young black man stood there. "Mr. Gibbs?"

Gibbs put the box back down. "Yeah."

The young man seemed nervous. "I'm Cal Frasier, Sir. I worked with Jackson at his store. I came to give you my key."

Gibbs approached him and shook his hand before taking the key. He remembered his dad mentioning a young man working for him, and now remembered his name.

"Thanks, Cal. Dad had a lot of good things to say about you."

Cal smiled shyly. "Jackson was a good man." He looked down momentarily and then faced the younger Gibbs again. "He saved my life actually. I was heading down the wrong road of life when he hired me on. He made me realize that I was wasting my life and helped me believe in myself."

Gibbs nodded, believing it. "That sounds like him."

"I'm really going to miss him. I had a lot of respect for him. I was having a real hard time finding a job, but he believed in me."

"Well, he was an excellent judge of character," Gibbs offered, conciliatorily. "His funeral is tomorrow afternoon. I hope you'll be there."

"Wouldn't miss it, Sir," Cal said sadly. He smiled and nodded to Gibbs before walking way. Gibbs stared after his retreating form, wondering what the young man was going to do with his life after this.

Before he could get back to what was in the box, Ducky called to him from the house. Gibbs walked around to the front where he found Ducky standing with a man and a woman, whom he assumed were the realtors.

Introductions proved him right and they all entered the house.

The couple separately inspected the house, garage and store. Neither were very impressed with the house or garage; thinking of the updating that would be needed. The store, however, brightened the dollar signs in their eyes. They both sat at the table in the store, pulled out paperwork and wrote up their bids.

The woman, Ms. Williams, snuck at peak at the other's figures. "That's a tad bit high, don't you think, Rob?" She winked conspiratorially. "Did Winslow give you a price cap?"

Gibbs frowned at his old nemesis's name.

The male realtor, Rob Henson, gave her a dirty look for letting that particular cat out of the bag. "I don't know what you're talking about, Edna. I think it's a fair price." He glanced over at her paperwork. "It's a hell of a lot better than your paltry offer." He also grinned connivingly. "Did your latest divorce leave you broke?"

She gave him the evil eye.

Gibbs looked up towards the heavens, praying for patience.

Both realtors slid their bids to the side of the table where Gibbs could move closer and look them over. Mr. Henson's offer _was _quite a bit higher than Ms. Williams; but the thought of Chuck Winslow possibly taking over his father's store made him want to take a torch to the place first.

Ms. Williams practically gushed at Gibbs; her overly made-up face and fake blond head deterred his attention as she listed off all the possibilities of what could be done to the properties.

Gibbs felt a headache coming on.

He picked up the offers, folding them in half. "I'll look these both over carefully and let you know soon." His voice held no promise.

Each realtor handed him a business card, offered their sorrow for his loss and headed out the door, bickering at each other under their breaths.

Gibbs tossed the papers and cards onto the table and sighed deeply. "That went well… _Not!_"

Ducky chuckled and came out from where he was standing quietly behind the counter. "They were quite a pair, I must say."

Gibbs ran his hand down his face in frustration. "I have no intention of letting his store get in Chuck Winslow's hands. And Madam Divorcee wants to fix everything."

Ducky nodded with understanding. "I sympathize with you, Jethro; but once they're sold, you won't really have any say in what happens to the properties."

Gibbs sighed. "I know." Why did he really care what happened once he left this town for good? He would never have to look at the store or house ever again after this weekend. It's just the thought of what his father would have wanted ate at him. Jackson ran his business, and made it a success, by being good and honest to his customers. That was a rare thing in this country during these times, when profit meant everything. If Winslow got his hands on it, he'd most likely turn it into a company store; jack up the prices and good customer service would just fly out the window.

And Gibbs certainly didn't like the idea of all the change Ms. Williams insinuated. Plus, he just didn't like _her_ in general.

"I need to think about it."

The two men spent the rest of the day packing up the items that would be taken back home in his pickup. Gibbs arranged for a flatbed tow truck to carry the ancient pickup from the garage to his home. That would cost a pretty penny, but it would be safer than trying to tow it from back of his own truck. They had a quiet dinner, provided by a neighbor, and easily fell asleep from exhaustion.

**ooooOOOoooo**

Waking the next morning, it hit Gibbs that this was it. This was the day they would bury his father and he would say his final goodbye. His team, Jimmy, Vance and L.J. would be arriving in a few hours. He had nothing important to take care of until the funeral, so Gibbs just lay there and listened.

The daily morning birds were happily singing outside, the clock in the kitchen could be heard ticking away time. At exactly 7:15, the next-door neighbor to the east slammed his car door and took off. Ten minutes later the neighbor to the west did the same thing. At 7:32, one of the town's three school buses stopped at the intersection two houses away, its brakes screeching to a stop, only to start out again seconds later.

The same sounds, morning after morning; week after week, year after year. The monotony was somehow comforting. Life went on. As would his own life and monotony once he got back to D.C. Gibbs was glad he had his life to go back to. Glad he had a job and people to keep his life alive. How much more excruciating this would be if he were all alone; as he felt he was when his family was taken from him. But he wasn't alone. He had a support group that would never let him down.

He looked upward as he heard one from that group stepping on a weakened floor board upstairs. The sound seemed much louder in the quiet. That squeaky floor board had gotten him in trouble a few times as a teen sneaking in after curfew. He smiled as he remembered getting yelled at and then woken up extra early the next morning to do extra chores for punishment. He could smile now, but back then he thought it was a complete injustice.

As much depression this day could bring, Gibbs felt content. Content in the past he was leaving here, content in the memories he'd be taking with him. One of those memories would be the reaction he'd see to a decision he'd already made. That would come later today.

**ooooOOOoooo**

The time had arrived. Gibbs and Ducky were at the funeral home for the hour-long viewing before the service. Many people from Stillwater had sent flowers. Director Vance had sent a huge arrangement on behalf of himself and NCIS. Gibbs had a feeling Abby had a hand in the arrangement his team had sent by the ceramic denim jeans and suspenders that was the vase. He and a couple old, close friends of Jackson's stood by his casket greeting people, shaking hands and accepting condolences and hearing more stories. Gibbs thought his dad looked peaceful and content in his own way. He had snuck the last remaining bottle of his grand dad's moonshine into the casket, hidden under the sheet. It just seemed fitting.

He wanted L.J. to stand beside him once he'd arrived. Most of the old timers remembered him and congratulated him on earning the Medal of Honor for his service. It surprised him, since he didn't think anyone actually cared. Gibbs gave him a wink, seeming to know what he was thinking. L.J. smiled and pressed on the area of his chest where the medal lay under his shirt.

When Tony approached the casket, he pulled a DVD from his suit jacket pocket. "I remember how this movie made you laugh. I thought you might want to watch it again sometime up there." He sniffled as he laid the copy of _"Grumpy Old Men"_ next to Jackson's hand. "Thanks for the sweater."

Ellie looked down at the older Gibbs and sadly smiled, thinking of how much he reminded her of her grandpa. Abby kissed her fingers and touched Jackson's cheek. "You gave the greatest hugs. I'm gonna miss you." Together, they both hugged the younger Gibbs, giving him a warmth he hadn't felt in quite a while.

Eventually, everyone paid their respects and took seats for the eulogy. Everyone from NCIS sat together along a row of chairs. Ms. Hannigan managed to get a seat right next to Ducky, who looked slightly uncomfortable.

The minister began the service, talking of Jackson's life in Stillwater and his impact on the community. There were sniffles, many tears; even laughter as he reviewed the man's life. When it was time for Gibbs to give his own personal eulogy to his father, he took his place behind the small podium.

"My dad was a hard man to figure out. At least to me," he shrugged. "What I used to see in my youthful eyes was a contradiction to who he really was. It took an old friend to make me see that Dad sacrificed a lot to raise me alone." Gibbs gave Ducky a look of appreciation. "He put aside his own happiness to keep my life on an even keel. I just wish I would have seen that all those years ago. But, being a Gibbs, bull-headedness runs in the family." Several chuckles accompanied the statement. "It was his stubborn pride that made him such a good neighbor to everyone. He believed in fairness and compassion. He had a strong work ethic that he hoped would rub off on others. He had the love of a good woman whose love was boundless." He gave L.J. a meaningful look. "He touched the lives of so many people over so many years. When people met Jackson Gibbs, they remembered him. So let's not forget the type of person he was, and strive to be that type of person ourselves."

The corner of Gibbs mouth lifted in a slight grin. "And this would be the part where he would tell me _'Enough talk, just get on with it'_."

Gibbs took a seat and stared at his father's face as the funeral director finished the service and instructed people on how to proceed to the cemetery.

The funeral home personnel gave him a moment alone before they would close the casket. Gibbs waited until he was the last one left in the room. He took his father's hand and, with his other hand, gently rubbed the older man's hair. "You've had a hell of a run, Dad. Give Mom a hug for me." Standing back upright, he gave his father a last look. "I'm glad you're back with your Chickadee."

The gravesite service was quite serene. Gibbs ran through flashes of his childhood with both his parents. He didn't dwell on the negative, but focused on things that made him feel a placid contentment with how his father's life had impacted him. This is how his dad would have wanted him to feel; not sad and gloomy. When the American flag was folded and placed in his arms, he hugged it to his chest and thought of how proud he was of his dad.

After the service concluded and people were heading back to their cars to go to the church supper, Gibbs took the flower from his lapel and placed it atop his mother's headstone. "Keep him in line, Mom."

**ooooOOOoooo**

The potluck supper lasted a few hours. Abby waited on Gibbs, hand and foot. Ellie did the same for Ducky, no matter how much he wanted to get away from Ms. Florence Hannigan. They all were getting a kick out of his predicament. The post-funeral get-together may have started out fairly somber, but before long it turned into more of a celebration of Jackson Gibbs. People shared laughter and memories; tears now being happy instead of sad.

Cal Frasier came up to Gibbs to say his farewells, after waiting for many others to do the same. Gibbs pulled him aside for a personal talk.

"Cal, what are your plans for the near future?" Gibbs asked, hoping his plan worked out.

Cal frowned. "Nothing really. There's not many jobs for the taking in Stillwater. I may have to move to a bigger city."

"Would you prefer to stay in Stillwater? Did you like working at the store?"

Cal wasn't sure where this was heading, but he nodded his head. "I sure did. Jackson taught me the business. Most importantly, he taught me how to respect the customer. I really love being a part of this town."

Gibbs smiled in satisfaction. He reached into his pocket and took out a key ring with several keys attached.

"The store and the house." He took Cal's hand and dropped the keys into it. "They're yours."

Cal's eyes widened in astonishment. "Wh-What?!"

Gibbs placed his hand on Cal's shoulder. "I don't want them myself and I don't want to go through the hassle of selling them. But I _do_ want the store to go to someone who will keep up the ethics and fairness that Jackson has built up. I think you're the man to do that."

Cal shook his head and looked down at the keys. "But I just can't—"

"Yeah, you can," Gibbs assured him. "I have every faith in you, just as Dad did."

"Thank you." Cal's eyes misted over. "I don't know what else to say."

"Believe me, you're doing me a huge favor," Gibbs told him, silently glad he wouldn't have to deal with those two realtors. With a chagrined smile, he added, "And if I'd realized transfer of the place was gonna happen so soon, I wouldn't have gotten rid of all the perishables already."

Cal chuckled. "Not a problem." He squeezed the keys in his palm. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Gibbs squeezed Cal's shoulder. "I'll have Dad's lawyer take care of the deeds, the store's bank account and what other paperwork that needs turned over to your name. It may take several days. I'll be out of the house probably tomorrow afternoon. I'm leaving all the furniture and such. You can do whatever you please with what you don't want."

Cal nodded, his appreciation obvious. "I won't let you, or Jackson, down."

Gibbs had a feeling Cal would make a great storekeeper. His gut told him so.

**ooooOOOoooo**

It was agreed the NCIS crew would spend the night camped out in Jackson's house, with the exception of the Director who needed to return to his children. They spent Saturday morning loading up Gibbs pickup and getting rid of obvious trash, so Cal wouldn't have to deal with it. L.J. spent some time catching up with old friends and looking through photo albums, relishing the pictures of Anne. Gibbs made sure a couple of them made their way into L.J.'s coat pocket.

Alone again, Gibbs and Ducky now stood outside the house, ready to drive back to Washington. He took a final look at the house. "I might just miss this place. At least for a while."

Ducky smiled. "I still remember my childhood home, with great fondness."

"I couldn't have handled all this without your help and advice, Duck." Gibbs put his arm around the doctor's shoulder. "Thanks."

"My pleasure, dear boy. That's what friends are for."

**ooooOOOoooo**

Gibbs poured himself a large shot of bourbon, sipping a bit before sitting the glass down. He opened the cardboard box once again, almost grinning like a kid as he lifted out the small boat and tossed the box aside. He studied it, thinking back to when he helped his dad put it together. The joy on his mother's face when it was presented to her, her smile when she read _'Chickadee' _on its stern. His dad's nickname for her.

Like a kid with a new toy, Gibbs sat the boat down on his workbench and slid the rubber band off a roll of blueprint paper. With great anticipation he began drawing out his next basement project.

**THE END**


End file.
